The Light of Day
by so caffeinated
Summary: A few months can change everything. [One-shot post Actions Speak Louder than Words (and other true sayings)][Stop the Presses 'verse]


Sometimes, he stares at her and just can't quite believe that all of this is real. That somehow this is his life. It's amazing how much a few months can change _everything_.

On the surface, more stays the same than changes. She's still his executive assistant, still the voice in his ear while he thins out the city's criminal population. They still argue and joke and listen and confide in each other. They're still _them_. They're just also _better_.

When things are quiet, without investors on the phone or bullets whizzing past him, there's a calm about his life that he's not sure he's ever had before. He finds it in the everyday moments, the ones that don't involve board rooms or bows and arrows. It's in the way she rubs his temples after a rough call with investors and the way his lips slowly commit the feel of the skin of her belly to memory at two in the morning just because he _can_. It's in late nights with lots of laughter and too much wine. It's in early mornings with bleary eyes and wildly frizzy bedhead clouding his vision as he blinks towards wakefulness.

He's not used to peace, but he's finding that he really likes it.

He's happier than he's ever thought he'd be and, for once, he's not letting that scare the hell out of him. Quite the opposite, in fact. And he feels like he's been so damned excited and hopeful for the last three months that he can't really quite believe that no one outside of their little group of friends has picked up on it.

This is, of course, precisely when they do.

They've had a long couple of nights. Someone tried to blow up City Hall and then someone started running military grade weapons in the south side of the Glades - of course these turned out to be the same someone, but they didn't know that at the time. Then there had been a zoning problem with the new QC Developmental Technologies building and one of their subsidiaries in China had a massive refinery fire. So… yeah. It's been a very long week on all fronts.

"I need coffee. No, not just coffee. A peppermint mocha," Felicity tells him as they step into the elevator. "And to get out of this building even if it's only for like fifteen minutes."

He must pull a worried face, even though he doesn't mean to, because the look she gives him next is affectionate and a little disbelieving.

"I'm not complaining about living here," she tells him reassuringly before he even realizes that's what he was worried about. "I _love_ being here with you. There's nowhere else I'd rather be. I just also miss sunshine. We're _always_ here or the club and it's been a brutal week and I just need fresh air in the daytime, okay?"

"Yeah," he agrees, because he gets it and does not disagree in the least. "Did you want to go by yourself or…"

"Oh no way," she snorts, hitting the button for the ground floor. "You're the one who kept me up half the night. You can buy my coffee."

He smirks at that because he can't not.

"I don't recall you complaining about that last night," he replies, eyes alight and sounding entirely too self-satisfied.

She bites her lip to keep from laughing at him, but she nods her head in a little tilt of agreement that he finds utterly endearing.

When the doors open to the ground floor a moment later, he forces himself to put a little extra space between them. He does let his hand rest on her back, though. He's done that since well before they were together and frankly it would be sort of unreasonable at this point to expect him to stop touching her entirely. Besides, that's never gotten them much attention.

At least until now.

Because this time, from the moment the elevator doors open, _everyone_ is staring at them.

"What… is going on?" Felicity asks, blinking at the various Queen Consolidated workers talking in hushed, conspiratorial tones to each other and staring as they walk past.

"I have no idea," Oliver mutters back tensely.

"You two!" Shouts a familiar voice.

Oliver turns to see Pamela striding across the lobby toward them, the biggest grin he's ever seen splitting her face. It's a little terrifying.

"I _goddamned love you_ ," Pamela announces as she reaches them. "You beautiful fucking sappy couple, I _love you_."

"I… thank you?" Felicity asks awkwardly as Pamela literally throws her arms around her and hugs her tightly.

"Pamela, what's going on?" Oliver asks, because her presence has done nothing to alleviate his questions thus far.

"You haven't seen the news yet today?" She asks surprised, stepping back a little.

"We had a long night," Felicity tells her, earning amused looks from both of them that make her flush horribly. "I mean, we were up late. Doing things. Not sex things. Or, well, not _just_ sex things. Ugh, that was more than you needed to know. We were up late doing work things. I meant work things. Forget the rest of it. _Oh my God_ , Oliver, you're supposed to _stop_ me when I do this."

"I _like_ when you do this," he laughs.

"I don't understand how it took _anyone_ this long to realize you two are together," Pamela says with astonishment.

"What do you mean 'this long?'" Oliver questions with surprise.

"You two adorable kids made the front page," Pamela tells them with a shit-eating grin, pulling a copy of the Starling City Gazette out of her laptop bag.

"Oh!" Felicity says with surprise, gravitating naturally closer to Oliver's side and reaching for the paper.

There's nothing suggestive about the picture of them. Not like last time. They aren't kissing. They're barely even _touching_. But the connection between them is tangible anyhow. There's so much affection on his face that it sends a shudder of delight up her spine just looking at the grainy shot in the paper.

It's even better in real life, though.

She looks up at him to find he's not staring at the newspaper in her hands. Not at all. He's staring at _her_ instead. And it's that same look he's giving her in the picture. Like he can't be bothered to notice anything else. Like she's _everything_. And her pulse thrills under the weight of his gaze.

"You okay with this?" He asks her, his thumb stroking along the base of her spine.

"Okay is sort of an understatement," she replies. "I mean, I'm not sure I want to be front page news, but I'm tired of feeling like being in love with you is something I'm supposed to hide."

"Good," he says with a smile that reaches his eyes.

Then he kisses her.

In the middle of the Queen Consolidated lobby on a Thursday morning.

It isn't deep or inappropriate, but it does linger, long and sweet and full of affection. It steals her breath and makes her heart flutter. The way he kisses her always does that. But what really makes the moment special, what cements it as perfect in her head, is that when they break apart, he reaches for her hand and doesn't let go.

His calloused fingers smooth over her knuckles, absent strokes of his fingers that seem almost instinctive. Oliver's a touchy guy. Keeping his hands off of her in public has been exceedingly difficult these last few months. He's _done_ with that. With hiding. With pretending he isn't completely and totally in love with her.

"Feel free to confirm to any press inquiries that Felicity and I are together," Oliver tells Pamela.

"Pretty sure that's redundant at this point," Pamela says looking at him pointedly.

He just smiles back in response, a boyish grin that makes him look light and carefree and Pamela shakes her head at him.

"Seriously. I goddamned love you two," she tells them. "Do you have any idea how young and _fresh_ you two make this company look? You can't _buy_ that kind of press. There is literally nothing I could do that would give this company as positive an image boost as you two saps staring all heart-eyed at each other. "

"I think that was a compliment. Was that a compliment?" Felicity asks.

"It was," Pamela confirms. "We should meet today. Talk strategy. Figure out how much you two are willing to say about your relationship. We have some serious media capital right now and we need to figure out how best to maximize-"

" _Pamela_ ," Oliver says, settling a hand on the woman's shoulder to gain her attention. "I have every faith that you'll deal with the press in whatever way is most beneficial to the company. Let us know what you want us to say and we'll go along with it. As far as what we're willing to say… I love her. She loves me. We're together. We live together. We support each other. You can tell them all of that or none of that, that's up to you. You can call her my partner or my girlfriend or whatever the hell you think is best. It doesn't matter."

"You realize the press isn't as simple as that," Pamela tells him, trying not to be thrown by his openness on the topic. "They'll want details. You _know_ this Oliver."

"I do," Oliver confirms. "And I know that you know how to deal with it. So I'm going to let you handle it. I'm not going to say anything to the press other than that we're together and we're happy without clearing it with you first. Okay?"

Pamela blinks back at him.

"Never, when you took over, did I ever think _you_ would be the best CEO we've ever had for the company's public image," Pamela tells him.

"He's full of surprises," Felicity says with a light smile.

"Now… if you'll excuse us, I believe I owe my _girlfriend_ a peppermint mocha," Oliver says, looking a little delighted about actually saying those words to someone in public.

Felicity looks more than a little delighted, too. And he _loves_ being the one to put that smile on her face.

He doesn't wait for Pamela's response. And he doesn't pay any attention to the various QC employees loitering around the lobby staring at them. He just starts towards the door, his fingers still intertwined with Felicity's and a smile firmly in place as they head out into the sunshine.


End file.
